Sorting Hat
by Draco-Zelda
Summary: Finch, Carter, Fusco, and Reese get sorted into Hogwarts. Where do they belong?  PoI/HP crossover.


A/N: Hi, this is just a quick fan fiction that I decided to create after a weird chat with my fellow Irrelevants. We had some discussion figuring out the ages and we decided that Finch would be a fifth year, Reese would be a second year, Carter and Fusco would be first years. The next chapter will focus on Reese and hopefully there will be a chapter where they are all together which is why there is a 'Five Years Prior' at the start of this chapter. I hope this explains everything. J

~Shecka

Five Years Prior~

A copious amount of children stood at Hogwarts' welcoming doors. One was a slightly confused dark haired boy with large glasses that reflected his faded green eyes. Although he was a mere eleven years of age he had acquired a vast intelligence that even he found stunning at times. Adorned in Hogwarts robes with an unmarked school crest on his chest he anxiously waited to be let in to the Great Hall so he could be sorted into his respective house.

Harold Finch never knew he was a wizard, his parents were both Muggles and had spoiled him with all the human knowledge he could acquire. However, there were always strange things Harold could do that other children could not. For example, he found that the idea of his books needing to be opened to the precise page he wanted was a bore, but after thinking this over the book on vinyl records he was reading flipped to page 394, the exact one he was looking for.

Despite this ability being outlandish, this was not the root of Harold's school troubles. His undeniably short and stubby appearance along with his large glasses made him a prime target for harassment under the insult of 'nerd'. For the most part Finch kept away from socializing thanks to the traumatizing assaults that were thrust upon him every day. So when he got his Hogwarts letter the idea of departing from his public school was a dream come true.

So here he was, awkwardly standing with other children as he awaited entrance into the Great Hall. He shifted from foot to foot anxiously as he could hear his own heart pounding rapidly. Being the child genius he was, Harold made a point to look up every possible fact about Hogwarts before entering. He knew all the houses and their positive and negative qualities and had convinced himself that he would definitely be a Hufflepuff. He was too socially rejected to be in Ravenclaw, and the remaining houses had even less qualities for him to relate to.

His father was sceptical about the school. So much to the point that when a professor from Hogwarts had appeared to explain Harold's situation he asked the wizard to do something magical. Long story short his father's bright pink hair was quickly dyed back to its regular black the next day. His mother, however, thought that Hogwarts could be an enlightening experience for their young child, and insisted that whatever funds he needed for schoolbooks and robes could be relied on from his parents.

"You may enter The Great Hall." Professor McGonagall called out as the doors opened, allowing the first years access to the room. Harold stiffed a gasp as he stared in awe at the bewitched ceiling. He knew very well it wasn't the real night sky, just an illusion created by magic, but as soon as he saw the midnight scenery he felt like maybe, just once he could belong.

Harold stared at his fellow students, wondering which ones were bullies and which ones had kind intent. Quickly he analyzed the more muscular ones as automatic threats while the smaller ones that hung around them as equally dangerous. He had learnt from his years in the public system that a bullying group was only as strong as its smartest member to torment their unsuspecting victims. Was Hogwarts going to be the same like all of his other schools? That was something Harold was desperate to figure out.

There were a multitude of students staring at the younger children. Harold instantly wanted to crawl back out of the room on the principle of being stared at, but stayed for the outstanding abundance of his own kind. The group of first years walked up nervously to the front of the room where Albus Dumbledore stood, eyes glimmering at each and every one of them.

"Hello, hello! Welcome to Hogwarts, new students!" His voice was raspy but his words were kind. Harold merely stared at the man, he had studied Albus Dumbledore to a degree but had focussed most of his research on the history of magic and Hogwarts. He was enthralled by the founders of Hogwarts and he had spent many hours in the night researching his lost heritage.

"Now, as you know, first years are subjected to the sorting hat," he then gestured to an old, musty wizard's hat. Harold cringed at the unclean idea of placing the hat upon his head. "It will sort you into your respectable house. Are you brave like a Gryffindor? Or perhaps you are cunning like a Slytherin? Is intelligence your forte? Or maybe you are a loyal friend like a Hufflepuff. Either way, you will be welcomed with open arms into Hogwarts. Do not fear; your house will accept you for who you are, not what you may seem."

This comforted Harold slightly. Although these words were coming from an old man who probably did not comprehend the interpersonal aspects of the Hogwarts houses, the idea of belonging, even if it was to Hufflepuff, was tempting to the young boy. "Well, I suggest we start." Albus commented before sitting back in his chair as McGonagall began calling off names.

'_What if I don't belong anywhere?' _Despite the comforting of the Head Master, Harold's paranoia began kicking in like an oncoming train with no way to stop. '_He said that I will be accepted, but what if I just don't belong here? What if the sorting hat just leaves me sitting on the chair for hours as everyone mocks me? What if-'_

"Finch, Harold." The shrill voice of Professor McGonagall called. Harold froze dead in his tracks. This was it, this was his moment to figure out if he truly belonged at Hogwarts or if he should have never boarded the train on Platform 9 ¾.

He took a small step, quivering with fear as his breathing quickened considerably. A million thoughts were pulsating through his brain like he was on some sort of sick rollercoaster ride. The idea of being rejected from a world he had known so much about if only through books scared him half to death. He was practically a reject in the Muggle world, what would he do if he was one in the Wizarding world too?

Harold felt a small push from one of his peers, telling him to pick up the paste. As if out of habit he rushed away from them. If he was going to do this, he was going to get it over with as quick as possible. Then at least he wouldn't be considered a coward by his fellow wizard students.

He sat on the chair, crossing his legs nervously as he bit his lip so tensely that he could draw blood. There was a moment of silence between his insecure thoughts being private and the sorting hat being placed upon his head.

"Don't be afraid," the hat mumbled, causing Harold to flinch slightly. "Mmm, an interesting mind. Very sharp, very cunning. However, not the determination to prove yourself required for a Slytherin…" One house down, three to go. "You have a sense of justice, that is definitely true. If you had been a Muggle you would have been a great asset to the security of the world. However, you do not seem to have action oriented attitude to become a Gryffindor."

"Please, just place me in Hufflepuff." Finch whispered out, hoping no one else would hear him. "I'll take Hufflepuff. I know I don't belong anywhere but just at least give me the respect of not leaving me here for hours."

"Heh, kid, you've got it all wrong. You are not Hufflepuff material. Although you are loyal to a fault your paranoia is a stark contrast to the open-armed Hufflepuffs of Hogwarts. No, Harold, your intelligence and undeniable wit make you a prime student for the house of…" the hat raised its voice so that the entire hall could hear. "Ravenclaw!"

The Ravenclaw house clapped in glee of their new member. Harold could hardly get his legs to move as he stumbled off the seat and into his new house. He began to smile like an idiot, feeling for once that he truly belonged in his new world of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harold Finch had found where he belonged.


End file.
